


Extra Curricular

by wellitsnotorigami (red_cat)



Category: British Actor RPF, British Actor RPF - Jodie Comer
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Hot school teacher!Jodie, Lecturer!Jodie, SMUTTY SMUT, Shameless Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, i still don't know what i'm doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_cat/pseuds/wellitsnotorigami
Summary: Miss Comer? A lecturer in Classical Studies? And she wants to see you after class?
Relationships: Jodie Comer/Reader, Jodie Comer/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Extra Curricular

Your name was being called as the lecture theatre emptied out.

Descending the steps, you make your way to the rostrum to speak to the lecturer.

“Yes, Miss Comer?” you enquire.

Miss Comer looks at you through her square framed glasses, a stern expression on her face.

“I need you to swing by my office later. We need to discuss your mid-term dissertation. Say, after 5pm?”

She doesn’t acknowledge you any further than that, turning to continue packing up her notes.

“Okay,” you say with a nod. Pulling the strap of your laptop bag back onto your shoulder you turn and leave the hall.

You’d been taking Classical Studies for 18 months now and seemed to be doing okay with your learning and thought you’d coped quite well if you were honest. You’d always had a passion for ancient history and always did well academically at it, it seemed like the most logical step to do a degree.

Of course the lecturer certainly made learning more interesting.

Miss Comer was one of the youngest members on the faculty: she was fiercely intelligent, always entertaining, superbly good natured with her students and never condescending. Not to mention beautiful.

And you didn’t mean that to sound condescending either. She was.  
It was as if she was one the goddesses she talked about in class come to life. 

Tall, athletically built, a classic heart-shaped face with full-lips and sparkling eyes. Her blonde hair tied back in fantastically constructed braids, or a loose ponytail, she taught with respect and enthusiasm. 

And the clothes she wore. 

Perfectly cut suits that emphasised her figure that must’ve cost a small fortune. Sometimes with a shirt, or a blouse or a v-necked t-shirt, a thin gold chain at her neck. One time, she completed the look with a waistcoat. A waistcoat. 

Not that you’d noticed. _Obviously_.

Arriving at the university refectory, you join your friends, falling into the usual comfortable banter, keeping in the back of your mind that you had an appointment to attend later on.

** ** **

You knock twice. A fast rap on the grey wooden door.

“It’s open,” you hear from within.

The corner office is on the top floor in one of the newer buildings at the university and has that streamlined minimal look, with a floor-to-ceiling window commanding a view of the campus.

There’s very little clutter for a history academic. But the wall behind and to your left is filled to the brim with books, all the way around to the window. The rest of the room has the standard filing cabinets, a two-seater sofa with a small side table. 

To your right, Jodie is sat behind her glossy white desk, her black blazer hung casually over the back of the chair, her tanned arms hovering over the laptop keyboard as she promptly closes the lid.

You stay there, as if standing at attention, clutching your bag and wondering what to say.

Peering over the tops of her glasses, she removes them with a pinched finger and thumb and suddenly she’s standing and moving quickly towards you, the chair rattling behind her in her wake.

With no preamble she pushes you up against the door with a solid thump, holding you there with her body as her hand goes past your side. You hear the snick of the lock.

Then her mouth is on yours, you drop your bag and place your hands on her hips, gripping the material of her trousers to pull her nearer as you moan into her mouth. 

She tilts back slightly, “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she says in a fast breath.

“You have?” you murmur exasperated against her mouth. “I had to cross my legs a few times at the lecture today, just to try and relieve the pressure.”

You feel her smile. “Really? Do tell.” Her hands pull at your top, yanking them out from where they’re tucked into jeans.

“The part where you were reading out Sappho’s poems?

_‘You came, I yearned for you,  
and you cooled my senses that burned with desire’_

It made me think of—ahh,” she slips her hands under your top, beneath your bra and starts touching the soft flesh there.

“And you called me Miss Comer? In front of the other students?” Jodie chuckles. “How formal!”

“I didn’t want to give anything away plus I was raised to be polite,” you mutter tugging harder at the bottom of her crisp black v-necked top, running your hands up her sides.

“The only thing I want you to give away is you,” she breathes, her mouth crashing back to yours, her tongue tracing your bottom lip then nipping at it, pulling and sucking. 

A leg wedges between your thighs, putting pressure on your heated core, she angles it slightly when she feels you compulsively grind against her.

Her deft hands have already undone your bra and are going to work kneading your breasts as she kisses you further into oblivion.

You’re grabbing her arse to pull her closer and add more friction to the throbbing between your legs, you can feel it pulse with every beat of your heart.

Pushing yourself off the door, taking stumbling staggering steps together as your lips never leave each others, you guide her towards her desk until she’s forced to sit on the corner of its shiny surface.

She places her hands behind her, palms flat on the desk, her toned arms flexed as she looks back at you with her head cocked to one side and a sly grin on her face, her eyes hooded with desire.

You just stand, panting, trying to get yourself together and in the next instant you’re hastily undoing her tailored trousers as she observes with a calm exterior. 

But you see what your actions are physically doing because her body is betraying her: chest rising and falling in anticipation, lips slightly parted, pupils dilated.

With little politeness, you lift her legs, remove her Grenson’s as fast as they’ll allow, unwinding the laces and yanking them from her feet. Holding the pants by the cuffs, you unceremoniously whip off her trousers like you’re removing a table cloth and trying to leave the flowers still standing.

Rising up, you plant yourself between her legs seizing the back of her head with one hand and kissing her, open mouthed and breathy as she rests an arm across your shoulders with the other gripping the side of your face with her long-fingered hands.

Meanwhile, your other hand has gone directly for the jackpot, worming its way under the ridiculously lacey excuse of what she calls underwear.

Jodie gasps into you and her head drops to your shoulder and she bites, as you put your fingers on her, sliding either side of her clit but not quite touching.

Laying wet kisses along the side of her neck, alternating between biting and sucking. Holding her at her waist with your free hand as she lays her hands on your tits, absently running her thumbs over your erect nipples.

Your fingertips slowly and softly massage her clit, you do it just enough to begin to wind her up but not enough to fully get her going.

“Will you stop playing and just fuck me?” she exhales gruffly. “I can’t think straight.”

“Well, I thought that was obvious,” you laugh, your first eyes focusing down on your hand then peering back up at her face and she huffs out a laugh.

Dropping down to rest on your knees, you push her knickers to the side and take a fast swipe at her with your tongue.

Jodie throws her head back and grips your hair, spurring you on.

With your hands gripping each thigh you run your tongue through her already wet folds, aiming for her clit but making getting there tortuously slow, where you swirl lazy circles around it.

She pulls your hair and whimpers and you smirk against her wet heat. You stop teasing her and go straight for it, flicking out a fast rhythm. 

Lifting a hand from her thigh which leaves half-crescent indentations, your finger starts to teasingly stroking at her entrance.

Her head swings forward, wisps of hair coming loose from her pony tail and she stares at you, open mouthed and gasping, a slow nod with half closed eyes.

“Consider this your oral test,” she quietly laughs, a hazy smile playing across her face.

Then her eyes slam shut as you push in a finger and your mouth latches back onto her swollen clit, sucking.

A moan tears from her throat, her hands going to either side of the desk and gripping until her knuckles turn white.

Pleasure ripples though her entire body as you continue to slide your finger in and out, and she starts to find a rhythm, her hips bucking as you keep pleasuring her.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she cries, her accent dense.

You feel her building to orgasm, with your mouth on her clit you add an accompanying finger - she spreads her legs wider in response which indicates to you that she’s close. So close.

All of a sudden, she’s trying to push your head away whilst simultaneously trying to pull you closer.

The orgasm hits her and she thrusts at your mouth whilst you continue pump in and out of her to coax her all the way through it. Gradually her twitches begin to lessen.

Your eyes catch hers as she gasps your name one last time.

You’re both breathing hard as you move your head away. Your jaw is aching, shining and wet. You wipe it on the back of your forearm.

Jodie grabs you by your shoulders and drags you up to her level, kissing you hard, groaning into your mouth, crushing her body to yours.

You angle your head a little to look at her, gently smiling, “I hope that’s worth at least a A-.”

She rests against you, forehead to forehead, “It was definitely worth having you over for extra curricular activities,” her eyes twinkle with amusement. She straightens up and stands, turning, driving you backwards until you’re forced to sit on her chair. 

“You'll do anything to be teachers pet,” she leans in, bracing her hands either side of you on the arms of the chair, a smirk on the right-hand side of her face. “Next, I want to demonstrate something to you that’s a little more show than tell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another post, another Jodie/Reader fic! Hope you enjoy this.  
> It has not been proofread by anyone but me, so any faults are my own.  
> It came about due to seeing a photomanip from KE s1 promos of Villanelle in a grey suit and someone had added glasses to Jodie's face and I thought, 'why not?' And also that BAFTA video of her saying "Miss Comer? How formal!" to a fan. So. freakin'. cute.
> 
> I play fast and loose with anything to do with what her supposed lecture is about, lol!


End file.
